About Time
by TheGrammarNeurotic
Summary: When Wolfram and Hart summons an uncooperative young man from another dimension, the fate of the world ends up in the hands of a green demon from Pylea.
1. Chapter 1

The Pendant

Lorne had grown accustomed to sudden trance states induced by music. Even so, he avoided exposure to chanting where he could. Sometimes it just happened, like when a CD display started auto-playing a selection of Buddhist mantras.

Before Lorne could sidle away, an uninvited vision overtook him. He stood on an elevated walkway, and a young man leaned over the edge of a balcony directly above him.

"Take it!" the youth hissed through his teeth.

It?

Lorne studied the young man, whose fair hair shaded earnest eyes. A slight frown drew the corners of his mouth downward to point at his narrow chin, an expression that seemed to bemoan what an inconvenience this whole situation was for _him_.

"Here, quickly!" The young man tugged a small crystal pendant from his neck and dropped it into Lorne's hand. "The magic-wasters are coming!"

What magic-wasters? "I don't like being pulled into your-"

"No time!" the youth counter-objected. "In fact, if they get their hands on that, there will never be time again."

Lorne shrank into the shadows as hands above him reached for the young man. What little he could see of the assailants reminded him strongly of the demon shamans employed by Wolfram and Hart.

The vision dissolved abruptly, leaving a dizzy Deathwok demon leaning against a tacky CD display. It had begun playing bagpipe music now. Taking a deep breath, Lorne steadied himself.

A small crystal pendant sat in his pocket, and apparently the fate of the world with it. What kind of idiot would entrust the entire world to a lounge-singing demon from Pylea?

* * *

><p>"Idiots."<p>

Furiously, Lilah Morgan paced around the magic circle. At its center sat a newly summoned being, and for all the world he looked human. She scowled at the demon shamans. Then, fixing a forced smile on her face, she turned to the stranger in the room.

"Welcome to Wolfram and Hart. My name is Lilah."

Blond brows arched slightly. "I'm not entirely certain I've had the pleasure of meeting a..." He laughed a small, socially awkward laugh. "What is the word for an animate corpse?"

Lilah's scowl returned. "Who are you?"

The young man tilted his head, bird-like, and examined the summoning circle. Then he bent forward in a lazy little bow. "Houmei."

"And you are the guardian of the Timepiece?" She really was beginning to lose her patience.

"Timepiece?" Shifting, Houmei slouched back on his elbows. "That crystal thing the river dragon gave me?"

Giving up information easily. Lilah did enjoy interrogating amateurs. "Yes, the crystal with the hourglass-shaped flaw at its center."

"Hmm." His eyes closing, Houmei smiled. "I don't have it."

"You don't-!" Lilah started to lunge for him before she managed to check her anger. That Timepiece would give her the ability to live again. "Where. Is. It?"

Houmei shrugged.

"I suppose there isn't really any rush. You'll tell us." Lilah nodded, and two demons came forward to seize the young man. Houmei stood up just in time to avoid their first grab for his arms.

"No need for force," he insisted, still smiling. "I'll tell you what I know." He turned, and a second grab missed him narrowly.

"Which is what?" Lilah said through gritted teeth.

Houmei stepped toward her. The two demons attempting to seize him met in a clumsy collision. "I gave the crystal away because Buddha told me to."

If the undead could suffer aneurism, Lilah would have dropped on the spot.

* * *

><p><em>Notes:<em>

_This story is the result of a dream which conclusively demonstrates how one should not read _Saiyuki Ibun_ and the _Spike Omnibus_ in a single week. You have my apologies._

_Furthermore, I have read precisely none of the _Angel_ comics, and therefore I am ignorant of any canonical discrepancies. Please do not waste your time pointing them out to me. Thank you._


	2. Chapter 2

Thing

The object had little weight, about as much as his car keys. It felt smooth and cool like glass, and it came to a point at either end. He knew what it was, and yet Lorne could only describe it, even to himself, as _thing_ or _object_. Remembering the young man from his vision, he wondered what sort of enchantment this might be.

Might as well start with what little he knew.

Internet searches regarding the use of the term "magic-waster" turned up precisely nothing useful. A phone call to Spike also proved a waste of his time, since the vampire did not actually answer.

I hope he's not in trouble again.

Lorne had to laugh at himself. Trouble pretty much described Spike to a proverbial T, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Well, it was better this way. If Spike had answered, what would he have said? Oh, probably something along the lines of: "I have a thing, and I can't tell you or show you."

He could just about hear Spike's irritated reply. "Sounds like something you should take up with your physician. ... Do Pyleans _have_ physicians?"

No, not in a conventional sense. Better to go solo for a while.

* * *

><p><em>Oh. Excuse me.<em>

Groaning, Spike threw one arm over his eyes. "George, get outta my head."

The telepathic fish made an expression that might have been aquatic chagrin. _I didn't mean to wake you._

"Well, you bloody well did." Sitting up, Spike glared at Xander Harris, who sat across the room, phone in hand, staring. "Psychic fish," he grumbled, by way of explanation.

_Well, since you're awake, have you seen a pendant?_ George provided an image, a small crystal with an hourglass shape at its center.

"That's what this is about?" Spike demanded, irritation building. "You're on the hunt for lost baubles now?"

_I don't really know what the deal is, but there are some really bad intentions going around about this pendant. It used to belong to..._ Another image, a sort of mermaid with pale green skin, sharp features, and sharper teeth.

Strangely fascinating.

Spike shook himself. "Right, well, it's always fun to hear from you, George, but I'm in the middle of playing chaperone to the deadliest high school field trip in history, so I'll keep my eye out for the thing, but no promises." Now bugger off.

With a sigh, George was gone.

* * *

><p>Lorne's hand closed around the object in his pocket. He wanted to take it out, to inspect it, but the same strange force that stopped him from thinking of it in any sort of specific sense also prevented him from letting it be exposed to the eyes of others. In a public library it simply sat there, somehow simultaneously warm and cool in his pocket, an unwanted burden.<p>

He hadn't wanted it to come to this, but his research was clearly going nowhere. His grip tightening around the thing in his pocket, Lorne concentrated on it. What was it? To whom did it belong? Where had it come from?

A soft whisper crawled across his consciousness, like the rustling of leaves in the wind. A response, fleeting but sure.

_Shangri-La._

* * *

><p><em>Notes: I feel like I should apologize for including a reference to a story I have not posted anywhere on the Internet (the Spike scene). Also, I still haven't read any of the <em>Angel_ comics._


	3. Chapter 3

Ending

This journey seemed to him a fantastical vision. Brought away from the ceremony site - guided rather than dragged - he soon found himself gazing out of a window which overlooked the city from high, high above it.

What a city.

In the afternoon light, it stretched away in shades of gray and dust, half-alive and in a hurry. As night fell, however, it transformed itself.

First came the lights, thousands or millions or even billions of them, like stars awakening on the darkened earth. From his impressive vantage, Houmei saw some of the lights moving in rows like ants, and he knew there were people. After dark, this city did not just come to life. It teemed and surged, and human and youkai mingled freely in a glorious rush of primal energy.

It all made Houmei's head spin, but still he stood at the window, unable to turn away.

"You haven't made yourself comfortable."

Lilah-corpse. The creature could enter without him sensing life energy. Houmei would have to be a bit more attentive than usual. "I am quite well here for now. Thank you for your concern," he added, smiling.

"You've been standing there for six hours. Aren't you hungry? Or tired?"

What an impatient former-person. Only six hours, and already she came seeking to draw information from him.

"I am quite well," Houmei repeated. Food in this place may not be trustworthy. Sleep would not come, so long as the world below ebbed and surged with sheer joy of the night. "What do you call your city?"

"Los Angeles." Lilah-corpse came to stand beside him at the window. "Do you like it?"

"It is very different from a mountaintop temple," Houmei replied honestly. The wild life force of the Los Angeles night called to him to join it, but he found himself missing the light of the moon and the stars.

* * *

><p>"You people are so hard to reach!" Lorne complained when Gunn finally answered his phone. "I hate to keep the chit-chat brief, but I was wondering if you knew anything about Shangri-La?"<p>

"Wh-?"

A sharp noise reverberated into Lorne's ear, followed by a terse command.

"You will leave it alone."

Illyria. Lorne hoped Gunn hadn't suffered any broken bones in the appropriation of his phone. "It's always a pleasure hearing from you, cupcake, but I really need more information than that."

"No," Illyria replied firmly.

"I don't even know what Shangri-La is, and-"

"Do not repeat the name of the homeland of the dragons," Illyria insisted. "Leave it."

Then, ever so politely, she hung up.

* * *

><p>The first soft whispers of dawn tinted the eastern sky. Houmei had eventually moved far enough from the windows to lounge upon the floor, but he watched relentlessly for the sunrise. What a senseless vigil.<p>

Lilah unfolded herself out of a chair. "Breakfast?" she offered.

"I'd rather not, thank you," Houmei replied with one of his patently infuriating smiles.

And that was that. Lilah's patience reached its limit. Mumbling a polite word, she excused herself and stepped out into the hall. The door clicked closed, and her expression settled into a scowl. Two demons waited eagerly for instruction.

"Your turn," she said to them. "I want to know everything. _Everything_, do you hear me? His family, his high school sweetheart and _her_ family, food allergies, shoe size, the number of holes in his favorite pair of underwear. Go."

With stoic nods, the interrogators entered the room.

Lilah pressed her lips together. Now came the end of Houmei. He had been nothing but a burden. Why, then, did she almost feel regret?


End file.
